Wolf at the Door
by Reiya Inc
Summary: Oh, do not be so hasty in your judgment of me! True, I have perhaps acted rashly, but you must first understand the context. The situation is not as simple as it seems... Spy/Scout


Disclaimers: All characters mentioned belong to Valve.

Rating: M

Warnings: Adult Themes, Non-consensual sex, and a bit of the ol' ultraviolence. Viewer discretion is advised.

A/N: TF2 is more addictive than meth. For real. Anyway, I had some spare time to let my devious impulses run loose. (Featuring: traumatized!Scout and creepy!Spy) Ummm… enjoy?

_**Wolf at the Door**_

xXx

Oh, do not be so hasty in your judgment of me! True, I have perhaps acted rashly, but you must first understand the context. The situation is not as simple as it seems and I am

beset with such disappointment over the outcome. Truly, I am! So, please, let me explain to you my intentions and then you shall see for yourself that they were quite harmless. Do not worry, I shall tell you everything; I have no reason to keep any secrets from _you_. Not now, anyway.

You see, mon ami, I have long since felt the chilling hand of death upon my shoulder. That gloomy and unwelcomed caress feels like the finest needles upon my skin. You may think this is to be expected in my line of work, however, I have been doing this for far longer than most. It is not the sickly flush one feels when they have narrowly extracted themselves from the gaping maw that afflicts me- no, it is the precise, internal wrenching of a creeping death.

I catch a glimpse of it each time I look in the mirror. It casts its shadow upon me so that I am always older, weaker, and grimmer than the last time I saw myself. How very bleak it is to see your own mortality! Flesh can only repair itself for so long, blood can only flow through these veins for such a time before my organs give out and begin to shut down. Even my bones will one day crumble under the strain. The best of my years have passed and now I await the descent. I can have no peace knowing this.

Surely, you have felt the same, non? I once spoke to the Medic about this and he seemed a great deal concerned. We talked for some time, but I could see he did not understand my ailment, the awful throbbing. He offered me some pills- Ha! As if a mere drug could cure me. You might as well stop the tide from coming in. After that, I have not confided in anyone about how I feel. If they are blind to the noose before them, then so be it. I would not be so unmerciful as to remove the wool from their eyes.

So, it happened that as we were engaged in our usual mêlée with the BLUs, I found myself waiting near the entrance to our base. Our enemies had been rather aggressive as of late, obsessively _wanting_ to draw the first blood, always on the offense… But I was not concerned. If they wanted to charge across the bridge with reckless abandon, then it would be simply too easy to cloak myself and stab them as soon as they give me their backs. I had almost finished my cigarette when I saw the BLU Scout running atop the covered bridge between the fortresses. He leapt and safely landed on our second floor. I was curious now about what he would do, for I knew the strategies of the RED Engineer well. He was a very efficient worker and would most definitely have some well-placed sentries throughout the base.

But I did not have time to ponder over this because a BLU Soldier and Demoman were crossing the bridge. Usually, our Sniper would have taken care of these ruffians, but we were anticipating his replacement. In the last battle he had taken several pieces of shrapnel to his neck and chest. Most unfortunate, he usually did such an excellent job of making the bridge impassable.

I cloaked myself and moved between the two entrances. Instead of entering, I heard the blast of the BLU Soldier's rocket launcher as he propelled himself to the second floor. I looked around the corner; the BLU Demoman fired a sticky bomb right at his feet, preparing to join the Soldier. How frustrating it is when the enemy tries to be clever. I rushed forward, knife in hand. My cloak faded as I lashed out at my enemy. He saw me, but it was already too late. My knife sliced easily into the open flesh of his throat, it's a talent I'm quite proud of for it takes time to perfect. Red spurted from the wound, like water from a punctured garden hose and the Demoman collapsed. He was still convulsing on the ground; I left him to bleed out. There was the clash of sentry fire and a shotgun followed by an explosion from inside the base. I slipped a mask of the late Demoman over my face and sprinted. Ah, but the fun was already over in our Intel room.

The Engineer was slumped against a dispenser, spitting up blood from the wound in his stomach. He would live; the transfusion and morphine from the dispenser would suffice. His beloved sentry, however, lay in small, sparking pieces beside him. I complimented him on his kill; the remains of the BLU Soldier were smeared across the floor. He grunted in reply and started to rebuild his sentry. He was very peculiar, that one, preferring the company of automated beings to sentient ones. Possibly, it was consoling to him to be amongst devices of his own creation, which shared no separate will from his.

I inquired about the BLU Scout nonchalantly; the Engineer frowned and admitted he got away. The boy had retreated upon discovering the great mechanical guardian of the Intelligence.

"He couldna gone far, I got off a good shot at 'em and nicked his leg." He told me.

I smiled; a Scout who could not run… how very dreadful it must be for him!

xXx

I exited through the opposite end, inspecting the floor of the ramp. I found what I was looking for easily. Upon the floor, was a scarlet half-moon imprint- his blood trail. Oh, you should have seen it! How swiftly, how artfully I followed them, not a single track escaped my notice. I pursued them with growing delight, like a hound that has caught a glimpse of the fox. Down they led, down to the sewers.

I was at the advantage here, you know, often it is easier to infiltrate the enemy base from below. I knew these tunnels like the back of my hand, but the Scout would not. This was his fatal mistake, thinking the trail would be lost in the dim light and the water. I stopped and listened closely, scarcely did I breathe for some minutes. In the distance I could detect a very faint splashing echo back through the tunnels. I proceeded with great caution, pausing a few times to determine his location. He was slowing.

It was not long until I caught up with him. Before, I peered around the bend, I cloaked myself. The boy was struggling so pitifully. He leaned against the tunnel wall for support as he limped along, every now and then letting out a strangled groan.

Now, I can not say for certain what came over me just then. I could have easily shot the boy in the back of the head and been done with it, but I did not. I had been watching that Scout closely over the past few months. This fascination grew as my disorder became more acute. How shall I explain? I saw in him the very thing I so desired. The fleeting gift of youth, perfect youth, and I wanted to possess it. It was as an eclipse; the boy waxing into his golden years while I was waning out of mine. His harsh, brazen manner and self-assurance that came from being so unfledged interested me.

Inch by inch I crept closer, pressing myself to the opposite wall. I was nearly an outstretched arm away when the boy stopped suddenly, hearing my approach. He whirled around and gripped his pistol tightly with both hands. His eyes darted around the tunnel, wide and frantic and he aimed his weapon indiscriminately. How tangible his fear was! I could see it seeping from every pore. Oh, yes, he now knew the chill of death's shadow as it passed over you. He had reason to feel such alarm, for I was already beside him. In one move I grabbed the Scout's head and slammed it into the wall with great force. He fell to the ground. I discarded his weapons then, carefully, I dragged his unconscious body to one of our storage rooms and bound his hands behind his back.

Mon ami! You mustn't think ill of me, for I had no intention of grievously harming the boy. You see, our lovely announcer had just declared a stalemate, so none of his teammates would have found him in time. And I only bound his hands as a precaution, for I had to inspect his wound, and who knew when he would awaken? I cut open his pant leg and found that the bullet had passed right through, the rest of the lacerations were just grazes; quite lucky on his part. As I was examining, the boy began to stir. He was quite disoriented, as you would imagine, but sat up when he realized he wasn't anywhere familiar. He looked at me with his sharp blue eyes, glittering in the dim light.

How often have you dreamed of the opportunity I had before myself, to have your enemy _completely_ at your mercy? You cannot say that you do not crave that sweet, enveloping dominance.

You see, we all possess the same base desires…

His knee-jerk reaction was to try and kick me with his uninjured leg, but I caught it easily. And then I felt it once again, that horrid chill, seeping down into my bones. My hand reached out, before I could stop it, and stroked the delicate skin. So smooth and unblemished… I traced the arc of his calf, feeling the firm muscles beneath.

"There is no need for such _hostilities_..." I told him and let my hand drift further north.

"Don't fuckin' touch me, you fuckin' faggot!" The boy spat, his mouth had twisted into an unsightly snarl as he pulled his leg away from me.

That was not very nice.

Swiftly, I dove onto him and struck him across the face. The blow sent him reeling for a moment and I took this opportunity to press my knee to his chest and pin him to the ground. He let out an impressive string of curses and slurs, no doubt quite uncomfortable with his hands being tied behind his back.

You see, sometimes these lout only know how to respond to pain.

I was surprised by how easy it was to make him bleed. I typically prefer not to use my bare hands against the enemy, but…

…For some reason I wanted to feel the fragility of the skin, the harsh resistance of bone, the taut pull of muscle. My ailment brings out the most unusual impulses. Ah, he was much more polite after a few lost teeth, a few cracked ribs! I laughed and asked him why he made me use such force.

I used my knife to cut away his shirt, nicking his flesh in a few places. It is rare to find something so exquisite and enticing. I took my time admiring the contours of his body, the incisions and contusions… almost like an artwork…

Shifting my position, I worked my way lower and undid his belt. Peeling away his layers, I told him he could make things easier on himself. That I would not touch him, all he had to do was put on a little show for me… that's all I wanted. I cut his bonds and sat back, watching as his eyes darted between my own and a spot on the floor. He knew the alternative.

Slowly, he reached down and wrapped a hand around his length. The Scout screwed his eyes shut as he began to stroke himself. I smiled and twirled my knife. Pride, it turns out, is something rather easy to swallow. He paused for a moment, and glanced at his prick as it lay limp in his hand. He swallowed thickly and began to pump faster. I nearly laughed at his sorry display. He was in too much pain, and much too afraid to get hard. It was quite entertaining, watching him strain so, trying _so_ very hard to get aroused.

"That will be enough." I whispered in his ear.

Oh, that look of fear that was in his eyes was so invaluable! It was as if a great chasm had opened within those azure depths and I could see him being pulled into it. That black fear, the devourer of all hope had taken hold and he knew now that it would not release him.

I acted quickly, and pushed him to the ground. The boy put up quite the fight, like a rabid dog twisting from my grasp and biting… But I stuck my knife into his wound and twisted it around until he settled down. I asked him if he had ever been with a man. He didn't answer, but I knew he hadn't. It was inevitable, and I told him so.

He started to cry then, and beg. Oh, how he begged! Such a shaking, terrified voice and trembling body… It excited me even more. I had not the fortitude to hold back now as I took the boy. He was so noisy at first, but eventually he quieted down and accepted it.

Yes, I may have been too rough with him, but you cannot fault me for that… It was as if some primal urge had been released within me and I could not fight it. I was _compelled._ He was so beautiful with his freckled skin and lean body. So tight and so warm… I cannot even begin to describe to you the pleasure derived. I had, at that moment, the perfection of youth within my hands. Oh, I know many people come close to it, but I actually had it! I had the brilliance of it flowing in my veins and it seemed as if for one fleeting instant the lurking shadow faded away.

But listen! I do regret that I was so impetuous with the boy. It is unfortunate, but this is war, oui?

I can see that something still bothers you. But I assure you there is no reason to worry; I am quite myself again. Now, I know that many people would not understand me, but I feel that we are very similar, despite appearances. You are far sharper than the others give you credit for. So I know you will believe me when I say that I did not mean for things to turn out like this. Truly, I am sorry that I had to treat the boy so, but he left me no choice.

After all, he _is_ our enemy…

And our benevolence is spared not for our enemies. Isn't that right, _Heavy?_

xXx

A pair of dark, unreadable eyes regarded the grinning man sitting across from him. The RED Spy calmly lit a cigarette and placed it between the white rows of his teeth. He looked entirely composed. Heavy clenched his jaw; he had heard screaming, and thinking it was from one of his teammates he followed the babbled words and screeches down here. His grasp of English was the poorest of the whole team, however, he had understood some of the Spy's lavish account. And it was enough.

Heavy glanced at the form on the floor. The boy hadn't moved, he just laid there on his side looking at the wall. He stepped forward and kneeled beside him. The boy looked up at him and started to shake, his blood-bruised eyes wide with panic. A thin red line trickled down from his split lips. The boy curled into himself, shielding his ribs. The RED Heavy grimaced at his mangled leg. There was a lot of blood on him, and… other things. He felt a dull twinge of pity for the BLU Scout. It was something he had never felt for an enemy before.

"I am sorry." He grabbed the boy's chin with one calloused hand and the top of his head with the other; he gave it a hard, sharp twist. The Scout lay still at his feet.

The RED Heavy turned; the Spy was still sitting in the chair behind him, an anxious look upon his face.

"I always think there is strange thing about you… but now I know. My father told me once when I was little boy that in the world there is people, and there is monsters who _look_ like people. These monsters _very_ clever; they hide self with pretty words and polite smile. But beware, they are not human, father said, and you will know this by the things they do."

He had decided that the least he could do for the boy was show him the same mercy he'd give to a dog. And he'd done his best to make it quick and painless. The Russian stood and approached the RED Spy; the cigarette had fallen from his lips.

But with _him_… it would not be so quick, or so painless.

xXx


End file.
